


Headaches + Sandwiches

by CommanderBunnBunn



Series: Knowing the weirdly intimate things about your platonic partner [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Bromance, Brotherly Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Mac as caretaker, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25284976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderBunnBunn/pseuds/CommanderBunnBunn
Summary: Jack has a headache. Mac gets sandwiches
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Knowing the weirdly intimate things about your platonic partner [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825321
Comments: 20
Kudos: 47





	Headaches + Sandwiches

Mid-flight Jack was struck down by a miserable headache. Lucky for them, Mac and Jack were enroute to a hotel for the night for a fresh start on their milk run of a recon mission in the morning. He wore dark sunglasses and a baseball cap through the corridor of the hotel like a hungover celebrity hiding from paparazzi. His eyes toward the ground focused on the heels of his partner to guide him safely to the room. 

He stumbled through the hotel room, eyes closed to avoid the offensive fluorescent lighting in the kitchenette. Jack flopped down in the bed with a groan and covered his eyes with his arm. He hadn't even driven from the airstrip to the hotel, opting to hide from the slowly sinking daylight under his hat and glasses in the back seat. 

Mac pulled the curtains, shutting out all the sunlight in the bedroom of the hotel suite and went to work in the tiny kitchenette. Before getting off the plane, Mac sifted through his "box o' random science things," stocked with nonvolatile goodies he may or may not need or want to play with. Sure the rainbow glitter slime on the flight home last winter wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made them feel better and got their frozen fingers nimble and working again. The clean up crew was not happy having to deal with all that glitter. For every time a glitter fleck was found after that day, Mac had to buy a round of beer for the gang and a pizza for the maintenance crew. Glitter had since disappeared from the box o' science. 

Mac filled a few plastic bags for the ice bucket with ice and went to work getting the gelatinous compound he'd snagged from the plane to set. Filling and sealing a garbage bag of ice and gel, he wrapped it in a towel and shoved it into a pillowcase from his designated bed. He made a significantly smaller gel cold pack and wrapped it in a dampened washcloth and went back to Jack. 

He slipped through the smallest crack in the door to keep from letting too much light in and quietly approached the side of the bed. "Hey big guy, I'm going to help you raise up just a little bit and slip this cold pillow underneath your head and neck."

Jack pulled his arm away from his eyes and let Mac help guide him while lifting slightly with his elbows. The initial shock from the cold stunned him momentarily, but felt amazing once he adjusted. Mac placed the smaller compress over Jack's eyes and forehead. "You haven't eaten all day, so that may be making this worse. I'm heading down the block to find some dinner. Is there anything in particular you want to eat?" He waited a moment for an answer and didn't get one. "Ok, any aversions then?" 

Jack's answer was a grunt followed by a gravelly, "I don't want anything. Get whatever you wanna eat."

Mac snuck quietly out of the room and left the hotel on foot, scoping out what was nearby. The sooner they ate, the better for both of them. A small local sandwich shop a few blocks away caught his eye. 

Upon entering, the smell of fresh baked bread made his mouth water, he was hungrier than he thought. The rack of chips lining the wall was the first selection. He spotted Jack's favorite, the Cajun Crawtators that they didn't see around that often at home. They were also kettle cooked and extremely crunchy, probably not ideal for a headache, but he grabbed a bag to stash for later when Jack felt better.

He perused the shelves looking for a more appropriate side, Cheetos, the fluffy cheesy poof version. Perfect. Jack would love that.

When it was Mac’s turn at the sandwich counter, he ordered Jack’s first. “Ham, roast beef, and turkey with provolone on white.” The clerk acknowledged and waited for his toppings selection. Mac looked through the plexiglass at all of the options, “How about some lettuce, and...what kind of pickles are those?”

“Dill, made in house,” the clerk answered in a monotone. 

“That’s perfect.” Mac was more excited than was warranted, but he just wanted to make Jack happy. “And some oil and vinegar, salt, pepper, oregano, ooh and cucumbers too, why not?” The clerk obliged, applying the specified toppings to the sandwich. “More vinegar, please.” Mac requested after the red wine vinegar was applied sparingly. Another swipe of the bottle. “A little more.” Mac paused, hearing Jack’s voice in his head _if you think it’s too much vinegar, then put a little more on and it then might be enough._ He smiled at the thought and then urged the clerk to add a little more.

Spotting the large menu board threw Mac’s lunch run wide open with options. He weighed the benefits of soup vs salad for Jack’s current condition and opted for some chicken noodle soup. It looked amazing, and he ordered a bowl for himself as well. 

He’d hoped they had an old box for him to carry all this stuff back, especially since he saw there were bottled drinks and a soda fountain. Caffeine might help move the headache along, so Mac opted for a Mr Pibb for Jack. Luckily that was also on tap, and they had the nice flake ice. Had Jack been in the sandwich shop with him, he’d have been excited at seeing so many of his favorite options available; Mac was satisfied that he’d make the right call and his partner would be feeling better soon. 

After all of the caretaking and helicopter parenting Jack had done over the years, Mac was eager to make sure he took the best possible care of Jack. Sometimes it meant leaving him alone, and sometimes it meant surprising him with a fountain drink with flaky ice chips and smothering him with attention.

They handed Mac a repurposed tomato crate to carry his food back, sandwiches, chips, soups, fountain drinks-it was overfilled, but still Mac ordered a small sourdough loaf, half a dozen cookies, and then grabbed a tiny carton of milk. Sure he may be going overboard, but this was Jack he was dealing with, overboard was Jack’s M.O. when it came to caretaking, it’s natural that the same be dished out for him.

Jack hated being fussed over though, except when he didn’t. You didn’t know which way he was going to lean, unless you were Mac, then you had a 88% chance of getting it right. It didn’t matter that they knew everything about each other, their deepest darkest secrets on the table in front of them, sometimes Jack was as stubborn as an old goat, if anyone could get Jack to cave and accept being taken care of, it was Mac. He was sure this was one of those times that would take a lot of convincing. 

Mac supported his overstuffed crate of food on his hip with one arm, fishing his room key out of his pocket with the other. As the box started to slip down his narrow waist, he lifted his leg to support it with his thigh as well, teetering a little to keep his balance while shoving the keycard into the lock and turning the handle, all while trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb Jack.

Mac held the door open with his butt and placed the crate onto the floor so he could guide the door closed without letting it automatically slam shut the way heavy hotel doors like to do. Softly easing it shut and holding the handle so it wouldn’t click was a success. No sounds of being disturbed came from the bedroom. 

With the most delicate movements, the slowest EOD tech silently unpacked the box and put away the items not needed immediately. Mac waffled between offering the sandwich first when it was freshest and most delicious or the soup, which would go down easier and probably more likely to be consumed, although begrudgingly.

With styrofoam soup bowl in hand, giant styrofoam drink cup in the other, and several napkins, a spoon, and a straw in his pocket, Mac peeked through the bedroom door.

Jack groaned from the bed, “you don’t have to sneak. I’m awake.”

“How are you feeling?” Mac asked sweetly. 

“Like my head is in a vice, but marginally better than before you left.”

“Think you could keep down some food? I’ve got some pretty amazing smelling chicken noodle soup. It will help.” Jack didn’t commit to an answer so Mac changed the subject. “Can I turn on one of these lamps for some light? Or are you not ready for that yet?”

Jack exhaled loudly, “Sure, wouldn’t want to add 2nd degree burn to my balls from spilled soup to the list of ailments.” Jack drawled, still covered with his improvised cold compress.

“Well that wouldn’t be an ailment, it’s an affliction. The headache is an ailment though.”

“Hmmph.” Jack grunted with a lopsided smile. 

For a moment, Mac was worried that something more was wrong with Jack. Was that the half smile of Jack being cheeky, or a half smile of something serious - sudden onset of severe headache, loss of coordination, he’d not even considered that Jack could have had a TIA or something serious. Mac sat the styrofoam containers on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed next to Jack’s waist.

Jack slid the compress up and off his face, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position with the cool gel pillow behind him. He dared to open his eyes just after Mac turned a lamp on. The quiet click was a 7-10 split inside of Jack’s head. He squeezed one eye shut hard while peeking slightly through a slit of the other to gauge the incandescent glow. Mac covered the lamp with a pillowcase to diffuse the light a little more.

“Thanks, hoss.” Jack sat up a little straighter, looking more and more like himself the longer Mac was there with him. He even smiled, an actual full smile with eye crinkles. Mac was no longer worried about the worse case scenario, but still concerned about how miserable Jack was.

“Now here,” Mac removed the lid from the soup bowl as he presented it in front of Jack with a spoon. Jack took the spoon with a shaky hand and dipped it into the soup. His blood sugar was tanked and he was definitely struggling. Mac was afraid that nothing he did would be acceptable-watch Jack be pathetically defeated by a headache and plastic soup spoon or humiliate him and offer to help spoon feed him like a child. 

“Here, let me,” Mac took the spoon with confidence and fed Jack a bite like this was an everyday thing. What’s a little spoon feeding between best friends? Upon remembering the time Jack begged for Mac to pee on his calf after a jellyfish sting, Mac had no hesitation that they were completely comfortable with basically anything. A checklist of weirder and weirder incidents that leveled up their friendship, over and over again. But this wasn't weird, no awkward eye contact, Mac scooted further onto the bed and Jack leaned relaxed against the headboard with his eyes closed, savoring each slow and deliberate bite.

Half the bowl was gone before Jack held up his hand, “I’m good now. Thanks.” 

Satisfied with the amount consumed, Mac pulled the straw from his pocket and stabbed it into the plastic lid of the cup, cringing at the screeching noise it made. It was much louder than he’d expected in the quiet room. “Mr. Pibb,” Mac announced, eyes lighting up at the next detail, “with flake ice!”

“Nice.” Jack seemed to be improving as he took the cup and sipped. “Oh man, it burns so good.” he sat the cup back on the table, “thanks, brother, you know exactly how to fix me, and I’m grateful.”

“You think you could handle a sandwich now, or is it too much to ask?” Mac asked with cautious optimism.

“What kind?” Jack raised an eyebrow, face still conveying discomfort. 

Mac thought momentarily about whether to list all of the components, or just accept that he knows he was able to make the choice Jack would have made himself, “Club...lots of vinegar.”

“You read my stomach’s mind.”

Mac was about to correct Jack’s anatomical bastardization when he saw a knowing smile creep up Jack’s lips. Mac stood to leave the room, pleased that he was able to help his partner feel a little bit better, “I’ll go get it.” 

"No wait," Jack stopped him. "I don't wanna overdo it, how about just some water for now."

"Sure." Mac slipped out the door and returned with a bottle of cold water and some more painkillers from his bag.

Jack was horizontal again, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. 

"I haven't seen you this bad in a while." Mac voice was apologetic. 

"Yeah. Gettin old." Jack sighed. 

Mac sat the pills and the water on the bedside table with all the other stuff. "Here, let me help." 

Jack didn't question anything or even open his eyes, he intertwined his fingers and rested them across his stomach as he felt the bed dip where Mac sat down. Mac pressed his thumbs into either side of the bridge of Jack's nose, adding pressure upward into his ridge under his eyebrows. He held it for a count of 15 looking for any discomfort on Jack's face. When he released, Jack exhaled loudly.

"Oh no, did I hurt you?" Mac reeled back, afraid to touch Jack.

"No, it was great. Know any more magic tricks like that?"

"If you mean which pressure points to use to help with headaches, yes."

"Then go on and do your thing Harry Potter, just don't turn me into a toad."


End file.
